


Prometheus

by Roadsterguy



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alien Technology, Gen, Loss, Nanotechnology, Other, Parent Tony Stark, Parent-Child Relationship, Resurrection, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:13:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22243141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roadsterguy/pseuds/Roadsterguy
Summary: Doctor Minerva left her mark.  Is death not as permanent as it could be, and if so, how much more messy could this all get?
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

"What are you working on, daddy?”

His daughter’s eyes were bright and curious, peering into the room from where she stood in the doorway, tugging at the cuffs of her pajamas. Tony couldn’t help smiling at her interest as he put his tools aside. He held out his hand to her. “You should be in bed, honey." Not like bedtimes were ever anything _he_ was terribly compliant with. "Here, let’s make a deal. I won’t tell mom you’re awake, and you won’t tell anyone what I’m working on.”

She took his hand and clambered into his lap with his assistance, settling with a smile. “I promise, daddy. It’s a deal.”

He leaned over her as she looked at his workbench with interest, resting his chin on her shoulder as she poked at the magnifying stand. “You know about the nanobots.”

She snorted in a distressingly familiar way. “Of course I do, daddy. You’ve told me all about them! They’re robots, like the ones we make, but they're, like, super little.”

“That’s right, baby. Too small to see. They run around…” he ran his fingers up her ribs, and she buckled and giggled, “fixing things. Even cleaning up around the house. Well, when the special space captain rescued me, she had a few of them with her, too.”

“Captain Marvel,” she gasped, turning to look at him, wide-eyed. “She’s awesome!”

“Yes,” Tony agreed, “she is.” Wherever the hell she had got to. “But these weren’t _her_ nanobots. She didn’t know where they were from. So she let me have them.”

“But you already have some!” she protested.

“Not like these!” he said, rocking her. “Mine fix mechanical things, like cars and chairs and toasters. These fix biological things, like lizards and guinea pigs and little girls who should be asleep.” He kissed her cheek.

“They fix people?” she asked, her brow furrowed.

“They sure do. Broken bones and cuts and the like.” And more, perhaps? Understanding them, controlling them, was a project of several years now. “But I have to make sure they work right. Otherwise, they might do more harm than good.”

“You will, daddy,” she replied, with a confidence he wished he had. “You make everything work.”

If only. “Now, it’s time for you to go to bed.”

“Will you sing me a song?”

He picked her up in his arms as he stood. “Deal.”


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn’t _enough_.

It was already revolutionary, and he really should write it up, find a way to duplicate them, get them out into the world. But was it worse to hold them back, or to release them when he still didn't have them _completely_ sorted? He had finally gotten into their operating system, and what a fiendishly intricate one it was, even if made of rather simple units. 

Like the genome, really. 

They now understood how mammals worked, how blood pumped, how each individual organ worked. The glomeruli of the kidney, the dance of Kupffer cells and hepatocytes, the strong, sturdy, regular contractions of the heart, the busy cilia of the intestine, and most impressively, they understood the glia, the glue, and how they bonded the neurons in a mass of brain tissue, how they protected them, how the neurons linked to each other, passing chemicals in the synapses.

They could fix all of it. Cuts, broken bones, tears of soft tissue, the spread of stiff fibrotic tissue in the heart, even the brain damage of Morgan’s rabbit when the coyote got to it – repaired, resurrected, and returned before she even knew he had died.

But they couldn’t turn dust back into people. There just wasn’t enough for them to work with. They didn’t have a template, didn’t know in enough detail what it was supposed to be. Didn’t realize that a pile of dust should be a smart, insanely strong, beautiful boy with big, startled eyes…

He should write it up. Make more of them. This Kree technology would be a boon to humanity.

But maybe they could do it if he just… worked on it more. Gave them ever-increasingly old bodies to work with. He tapped his teeth with a stylus. The boy down the street had lost his dog to a car a month before…


	3. Chapter 3

It was dark. Dark and heavy on him. He was… who _was_ he?

He was only what he could feel, dark and heavy and pain. But there was… power? He could draw on it, in a way that made no sense to him, because he didn’t have… words. Just instinct. To draw, to push, wood and dirt and more dirt, heavy and thick and smelling like dying and living, and pain and dark and…

Bright. Too bright, abruptly, painfully bright! He turned, pressing his face to the dirt. That hurt too. But not too bright, now, those stabs of pain in his eyes. Noises came out of him, grunts and growls and little wails. What was this? He had… he had to… there was an urge, for something, for flashes of memory, for people. Red hair. A little body in his arms. A dark, serious face. Big eyes. He needed…. He needed. All of it. _Them_. Go. Go find those, each one. How? Where? His arms moved. He could do that. He could move his arms. Arms, yes, he had those, and more?

“Well. This is something different.”

Noises. Noises that he felt should make sense, but didn’t, and he made frustrated grunts. Something took his head, and it hurt, and he wailed quietly as he was pulled up to face the _bright_. A shadow against the _bright_ , and the noises were coming from it.

“Jesus, you look like a horror movie. Hard to kill, aren’t you.” A frustrated sigh. “I come to leave you some flowers like a _nice_ former employee, and what do you do? Try to come back to life and fuck up my plans!” The force left, and he could put his face back to the dirt, away from the _bright_. “Jesus, if you’re not going to stay dead… dammit…” Sounds. Disturbing sounds. Oh, more parts of his body could move, and he started to move, and something pressed hard and painful on his… neck? He wailed. “Oh, shut up. Well, I gotta see how this happened.” A flutter, and more dark. “Oh, Tony.” Movement. He tried to move, but he… he couldn’t. “You’re the gift that keeps on giving, aren’t you.”


	4. Chapter 4

"So, I had this thought.” Ned tapped his fork against the plastic tray thoughtfully. This was the first time that they had together all day, tucked into a corner of the lunch room, before any of the other nerds found them and sat with them.

“Yeah?” Peter took a bite of his burger.

Ned looked around the cafeteria to make sure nobody was nearby, then shifted closer. “Mysterio. I’ve been thinking about him.”

Peter frowned. The man was dead. He was bad, and Peter had killed him, and it was all a _lot_ to think about, especially when biology was the next class. He wasn't as good at biology. “What about him?”

“We got him, and the drones, and the EDITH thing and all, but, I mean, a guy like that – he's gotta have a guy in a chair or something like that, yeah? Maybe more than one!”

“Good guys have guys in chairs,” Peter objected, slurping at his drink. “He’s not a good guy.”

“Nah, but they have henchmen, and evil lairs, and things like that. Shouldn’t we,” he shifted closer, gesturing, “try to find it? There might be stuff there that we should know about! Or, like, you know how in the movies, the bad guy has a henchman who takes his stuff and becomes the next bad guy, for the sequel?”

“Wow.” Peter sat back. That was proper thinking, that was what's-next thinking. “That’s a good thought, Ned. I wonder how we…” Oh. Having this was like a cheat code, wasn’t it? But he'd take it! He pulled out his glasses and put them on. “Hey, EDITH?”

“Hey, boss,” she said, “what can I do for you?”

“Mysterio – you know, the guy I handed you over to. Does he have an evil lair?”

“Don’t know what you mean, boss.”

“A, uh,” he glanced at Ned, “a place where he kept all of his stuff? A… a home base?”

“Affirmative. He had temporary locations, and a permanent warehouse down near the docks in this city.”

“Whoa. Show me where?” Ned mashed his face close to try to look. “Oh, put it on my phone so Ned can see too!” He held up his phone, and they both looked at the blinking red dot on the map.

“We can get there on the bus,” Ned noted. “But not ‘til later. Band practice.”

“And I really should let Aunt May know,” Peter sighed.

“Oh!” Ned said, excitedly. “Maybe she can give us a ride!”


	5. Chapter 5

"Okay. You boys have to promise to be careful, all right?” May shut off the car off as she set the parking brake.

Peter sighed, bouncing slightly in his seat. “Yes, Aunt May! We’re just going to look around the place, it’s all abandoned!”

“I’ve heard _it’s abandoned_ before. If your little Spider-tingle starts tingling,” she wiggled her fingers, “you have to promise to come right back out!”

“I promise, okay!” Peter pulled on the hood of his suit as he slid out of the seat, Ned hard on his heels.

“Hey,” Ned whispered as they crept towards the dark hulk that should be a fully abandoned warehouse, “when do I get a suit?”

“Do you need one?" Peter hissed back. "I mean, they’re not all that comfortable… the, you know, the crotch gets sweaty!” He tugged at where the suit pulled his junk far too close to his body.

“Yeah, but it looks cool!” Ned whispered as they got to the door.

“That’s not a good reason to have a suit!” Peter tugged at the door. It stayed firmly shut. “Uh, Karen?”

“Yes, boss?” she asked.

“Can we… unlock this door?”

“Very easily," she told him, soothingly. "Put your palm up to the lock.”

Peter did, and then squirmed at the strange feeling in his palm. “Whoa, that feels super creepy!”

“I’m using your suit’s malleable parts to pick the lock," she told him. "It will go faster if you can manage to stay still…”

“Stay still…” Peter’s feet danced with the effort of holding his palm still. “Man, this feels like I have worms digging in my hand!”

"Right… maybe I don’t need a suit,” Ned said, looking nervously at Peter’s hand.

Finally, the lock clicked open, and Peter pulled the door open.

They both stepped inside, Ned slipping on the night-vision goggles he had begged off of Happy, Peter changing his suit over to night-vision. “Whoa.” The roof arched above them, and all around were benches with equipment – computers, 3D printers, centrifuges, isolation boxes, what looked like the bulk of a mass spectrometer, and other pieces that Peter wasn’t familiar with. “Wow, this place is one abandoned lair…”

Ned swiped a finger over the bench. “It’s all dusty and gross. Nobody’s been here in a… ah… ah… hachoo!”

“Hey!” Peter ran up to him. “Be quiet, we don’t know if…” he paused, feeling something shiver down his spine.

“What is it? Your Spider-tingle?”

He’d never shake that, would he. “Yeah, it’s…” It's strong. He waved for Ned to be quiet. Sometimes, it was a general sense, but this felt _directional_. He turned, and when he was facing a small office in the corner, it practically zapped him. He waved for Ned to be quiet and get in some cover, and walked carefully towards the door. Ned did the first part, but walked with him towards the office – well, at least he was taking cover behind equipment as he went.

The office door had an outside deadbolt lock. That was weird, wasn’t it? Locks should be on the inside… unless. Unless there was something they didn’t want to get out. Some dangerous creature? Would it still be alive? Peter pressed his ear quietly to the door, and his enhanced senses heard… breathing. Something was alive in there. His heart was hammering… but the breathing was very slow, very quiet. Maybe it was barely alive.

He slid the bolt back very, very quietly, and eased the door open. The interior of the office was even darker than the warehouse, and he waited as the night-vision re-adjusted. Something was in the corner, a dark figure, barely moving with the slow breathing. Ragged clothing. But it was clear that the clothing had been a suit, a proper formal suit. Dark hair, streaked with light, a haggard face looking up at him behind a thick beard…

* * *

Stinging on his face, little flappy noises. “Peter? Peter!” Ned's voice.

“Look, he’s blinking. Honey?”

“Hey!” Peter sat up. He was in the back seat of Aunt May’s car, his hood off, May and Ned looking over at him from the front seat, the latter sitting back after slapping his face. “What happened?”

“They’ve got some weapon in there!” Ned gasped. “Some kind of sonic thing, maybe? You passed out. I slammed the door shut, locked it, and carried you back out!”

“Weapon…” Peter blinked, shaking his head. Weapon. No, there hadn’t been a weapon in there. He poked at his fuzzy memory. There had been something alive in there. A person. A face… a familiar face, if altered... “Mister Stark!”

“What?” Ned asked.

“It was Mister Stark in there!” Peter saw the _Look_ that May and Ned gave each other. “I’m telling you!” he protested. “It was Mister Stark!”

“Maybe you should lie down a little longer, honey,” Aunt May told him, pressing at his chest.


	6. Chapter 6

"What are you doing here?” Happy spread his arms wide in frustration.

“I know, I know,” Peter pulled the hood off after closing the window behind him, thoughtfully, “but you weren’t answering my texts!”

“There’s nothing to say! Go home." Happy flipped his hands at Peter. "I’ll let you know if anything changes. And I’m going to lock the windows!” He looked at it with annoyance, as if a second-floor office window held any challenges for Peter.

“I want to… can’t I… see him?” It had been over a week since they had brought Mister Stark to the mansion, not sure what else to do, and Happy had taken him in and called a doctor, shooing them off and telling them he’d take care of the man. Which, yeah, okay, at the time - but shouldn't he let Peter know? Let him visit?

“There’s nothing to see.” Happy sighed. “The doctor said he’s stable, just emaciated and dehydrated. So it’s just waiting, now.”

“Hey, great! I wanna talk to him! Can’t I talk to him?” Peter moved towards the bedroom door, but Happy took his arm. Peter’s protest died out at the look on Happy’s face.

“He’s got brain damage, Peter. He can barely talk.” Happy sighed. “He’s not _Tony_.” He paused, letting the words percolate. “I’m sorry.”

Peter pulled away and slumped in a chair. “He… you know, that Mysterio guy… he showed me something. Mister…” His throat went dry. “Mister Stark,” he managed, “coming out of his g…rave, all… all rotting like a zombie. I… didn’t think of Mister Stark like that, ever…” It hadn't come from _him_. It had come from Quentin. Why hadn't he thought about that?

Happy nodded, letting Peter sit, letting the confused, sad, angry thoughts swirl around. It hadn’t been a vision, had it. It had been real. He _had_ Mister Stark, all locked up. Was it Peter's fault? If he had looked earlier, if he had thought, instead of waiting for Ned to... “I mean, he was dead,” Peter said, finally.

“He sure was. No pulse. Pretty damn burnt up, especially the right side…” Happy shrugged. “They don’t get much more dead than that.”

“And he got better. So maybe he’d get better from the brain damage!”

“I’m totally out of my depth, here! I know what you’re feeling, Peter, and I’d love to have Tony back, too. All I can go on is what the doctor said, which is that people generally don’t recover from brain damage like that.”

“And they don’t _generally_ recover from being dead and buried!” Peter protested, his arms waving helplessly.

“No, but just because he got over one doesn’t mean he’ll get over the other!” Happy yelled.

“Hey,” a hoarse voice said from behind him. “Cut out the yelling, I was sleeping in there.”

“Tony?” Happy whipped around. Peter leaped to his feet. He still didn’t look… quite like Mister Stark. He looked so _small_ – which the guy was, Peter supposed, barely bigger than Peter, but he usually didn’t act like it! He was clean-shaven, which made his face look bare and cold, and was still… awfully hollow-cheeked.

“Nanos. Different sort of nanos,” Tony sighed, looking at them both. “Biological. Was developing them to get the kid back.” He waved at Peter. “All the dusted ones. Couldn’t quite do that, but can do quite the Lazarus, it seems.” He sighed again, as if it was effort to pull in enough breath to get through a sentence. “Still not quite done. Getting there…” He collapsed into a chair.

“Hey, get back to bed, then,” Happy scolded.

“In a minute. Wanna… look around.” He beckoned at Peter. “Kid?”

Peter came back to life, running over and embracing him with inappropriate enthusiasm, taking his fragile body in his arms, hugging it far too tightly. “Mister Stark. I missed you so much.”

“I’m…” Tony’s voice was thick with emotion, and he cleared his throat, slouching back in the chair as Peter came back to himself and let go. “Good to see you’ve managed to stay alive for a little on your own.” He rubbed his chin and frowned. “Pepper?”

“Uh, yeah,” Happy coughed gently, “she’s… out. Uh, she has… she thought you were… dead…”

“I was.”

“Yeah, uh, so she…” Happy’s hands worked together.

“Boyfriend.” His voice was almost resigned. Peter looked away.

“Yeah. That.”

“Steve? Good ol’ Cap?”

“He’s…” Happy looked helplessly at Peter. “He’s gone. Nobody knows were. He just… disappeared.”

“Well.” Tony looked down. “Shit.”

“But,” Peter said, helplessly, stupidly, “we’re still here…”

“Yeah.” Tony’s hands reached out, pulling each of them close. “You are.”


	7. Chapter 7

A hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. Tony blinked. He was tired, these days, coming back to himself, still... well, it was an interesting thought. Was he fully himself? He _felt_ fully himself, but he had felt fully himself a week ago, and looking back, he could tell he hadn't been... quite there. At what level of brain damage wasn't he _himself_ anymore? That was not a question that a person usually addressed on the _upswing_ , was it. But there were more pressing matters at the moment. 

"They're here." Happy looked down at him, his face so far from _happy_ these days...

"Oh, yeah, thanks." Tony sat up, wrapping the robe around himself, tying off the belt. Here. They were here, and he should be ready to see them... should he get dressed, should he see them in the sitting room?

Morgan took all of his considerations out of the equation, bursting through the door like a miniature hurricane and jumping into his arms, flinging her own little arms around his neck. "Daddy! You're back!"

Tony held her tightly, feeling her warmth, the thrum of her heartbeat, her excited breath in his ear. "Baby. Daddy missed you so much." He opened his eyes, and saw Pepper standing in the doorway, her face unreadable. She pointed at her watch, then held up ten fingers, twice. Tony nodded. "Hey..." He pulled back slightly, stroking her soft hair. "Tell me what you've been up to, honey."

* * *

It was twenty minutes almost to the second when Pepper returned, finding them on the floor together, Morgan showing Tony the pictures from their recent boating trip, projected onto his screen. "Okay, honey. Time to go home."

"Aw..." Morgan looked up at her unhappily. "Why can't I stay here? It's daddy's place!"

"Go on." Tony flicked off the screen with a gesture. "I'll see you again soon, I promise."

"Go see Happy," Pepper urged, "he'll give you some cocoa before we leave." Morgan brightened at the suggestion, kissed Tony on the cheek, and ran out of the room. Pepper watched her go, then turned back to Tony as he got to his feet.

"I missed you," he ventured. Shouldn't... shouldn't this be different? A hug, a kiss?

"What am I supposed to say, Tony?" she sighed, her face pained. "I missed you. I thought you were dead. I cried. I mourned, I got angry, I got depressed, and I finally accepted it. It's not the first time. I don't think I can do it again."

Tony nodded. "Look, I didn't know... that this was going to happen. I certainly didn't plan it..." He never did, though, did he. Despite his best efforts, he never was able to make things easier for her.

"No, but it happened. And now there's Morgan, too. She didn't understand what _death_ was. We worked through it, with some friends and family; I had her understanding that sometimes people leave and never come back, and it's very sad, but we have to remember them fondly and let them live on in our heads and live for them. And now.. what can I tell her? Oops, sometimes that _doesn't_ happen? She thinks I lied to her. And the next time someone dies, she'll laugh it off and feel confident that they're coming back, and get angrier the longer they don't, and what does all of that _do_ to a kid?" She exhaled.

"I don't know. I just know I love you both, I want you here..."

"And I love you, and I can't do this again, and it's not just about me anymore. I... I had this hole in my heart, and I had finally spackled it over, and was feeling okay about feeling happy again and moving on, and now... this?"

Tony hung his head. He didn't belong. The world had figured out how to get along without him, and then he had barged back into it, once it didn't need him anymore...

"I'm sorry. I know you didn't mean to do this. But I didn't, either."

And what was he supposed to say? That he'd change, that this wouldn't happen again? He had made that promise, and there was always something. Always a ship, always a crisis, always a Thanos. Always _something_ that pulled him away from that promise.

The door clicked quietly closed.


	8. Chapter 8

“How does it feel, being alive again?”

Tony stared thoughtfully at the blue sky above, dusted with white clouds. He was finally up and around - although _around_ was mostly around the house; it seemed like making his resurrection generally known was not going to be helpful for anyone. Not to mention that his house was familiar, quiet, and comfortable, and damned if that wasn’t a trio he needed about now. Along with the current additional trio of warm sun, lawn chair, and a cold craft beer. “I’m getting used to the idea,” he told Rhody, tucked into a chair and holding a beer as well.

Rhodes raised his beer and grinned. “Well, you got time. It’s been quiet. And hey, next time there’s some nutso invasion, maybe you can step back and let the rest of us handle it.”

“Question for you, Rhody…” Tony turned his head to face the man.

“Wait.” Rhodes took a long pull from the beer. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“You’re taking it in stride, aren’t you. Me not being dead. Why?” Not even a double take. Just a wry grin and a squeeze of his shoulder.

Rhody shrugged. “Nothing surprises me anymore. Specially when it comes to you.”

“Mm. No. Try again.” It was a skillful deflection that Tony admired, but he wasn't in the mood. This was, somehow, important. Rhody was far more sanguine about all of this than anyone else so far, and Tony wanted a bit of that.

“Hmm.” Rhodes took another thoughtful pull, considering his words before speaking. “I thought you were _hella_ egotistical for the longest time.”

“To be fair, I was.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t been for a while, man. Life beat you down – I mean, it beat me down, it beats us all down, but it took one hell of a potshot at _you_. So it’s funny for me to say, now, that I think you’re some kinda god.”

Tony nodded, pursing his lips. “I like it.”

Rhodes shook his head. “Nah, you don’t, you think I’m full of shit. But I don’t mean old guy in the sky with a long beard. I mean one of those old-school Greek gods, you know? Way too much power, not quite sure what to do with it, weird shit happening, you getting testy because even _you’re_ not sure what’s going on. So yeah.” Rhodes shrugged. “You came back from the dead. What else is new. Probably as big a surprise to you as it was to the rest of us.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, frowning as he stared at his beer, turning it in his hands.

“And I bet you don’t even know what’s gonna happen next. That was always your thing. Figure it out, get in front of it." He sat up slightly, looking at Tony thoughtfully. "Ready to let that go? Live in the moment? It's pretty good, you know. Give it a try. Just for a moment.”

“Maybe.” Tony took a long pull on his beer.

“Eh, who are you kidding.” Rhodes smiled wryly. “You wouldn’t be _you_ if you didn’t.”

Tony settled back, his mind helplessly wondering what was _next_.


End file.
